


lucky for you

by OpportunisticHag



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Choking, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Derogatory Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Rough Sex, bartender veronica, for real, jughead and veronica bffs 4l, pearl necklaces - both literal and figurative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 21:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13579380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpportunisticHag/pseuds/OpportunisticHag
Summary: “Jug, it’s one thing for you guys to be buddy-buddy at Pop’s, but I won’t have a Lodge working in my home. You don’t get to protect her and decide what happens to her here.”Veronica’s eyes roll so hard it’s a wonder that they don’t get stuck.





	lucky for you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [barbvin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbvin/gifts).



Veronica makes it through the entirety of her sophomore year before she drops out of college.

She accepts the admonishment from her parents, rejects the assumption that she’s going to rest on her laurels since bowing out of the family business. She’d pack a bag and storm away if she thought she could pull off the casual hobo life as well as Jughead.

Betty immediately offered up her bed, seeing as she wouldn’t be home for a few more weeks yet. But Veronica is already fighting with one set of secretive parents—she can’t handle another on her own.

So she rests on _one_ laurel and only stays in the Pembrooke long enough to sleep and shower, but spends her first few days back in Riverdale looking for work. The high schoolers have gotten first dibs at all the retail jobs for the summer, and she is vastly underqualified for much else.

Pop was more than welcoming, offering a position as soon as he overheard her conversation with the boys. But Veronica knows he’s already taking care of more wayward misfits than usual and she doesn’t want to strain his finances now that he’s back on top.

“There’s always the Wyrm.” Jughead shrugs. “It’s better than nothing. To get you through the summer, at least.”

It’s not the worst idea, she reasons. She knows the ins and outs of mixing drinks; she can work somewhat mindlessly; she might make decent enough tips.

Archie looks wary, but she’s already strapped for cash and her options are dwindling.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jughead gives her the lay of the land—nothing special other than the emergency switchblade taped to the underside of the bar.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

FP’s voice booms from overhead before the heavy sound of his footsteps descending the stairs do. “Get out of my bar.”

“We need another bartender,” Jughead begins, and FP jumps like he hadn’t seen him there the entire time.

“What happened to Toni?”

“ _Another_ bartender,” Jughead repeats slowly. “She can only do weekends — she’s still taking courses at RCC for the summer.”

“Where’s Hog Eye?”

He jerks his thumb behind him, gesturing to the older man currently asleep in a frayed booth. Jughead had explained to her that poor Hog Eye had been pulling double shifts since Toni had started her summer semester.

FP grabs Jughead’s arm to angle him away from her, and speaks in a hush — useless since he didn’t actually take him any further away.

“Jug, it’s one thing for you guys to be buddy-buddy at Pop’s, but I won’t have a Lodge working in my home. You don’t get to protect her and decide what happens to her here.”

Veronica’s eyes roll so hard it’s a wonder that they don’t get stuck.

“Dad, what the fuck?” Jughead brushes his hand off and goes back to his original stance. “You’re worse than Alice. At least she feeds me before she threatens me.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t cook, and I doubt Miss Priss has a taste for seventy five cent ramen.” She loves cheap ramen, actually, but— “Do you even know how much your family owes me? How much of your dad’s fancy shit in your fancy house would it have taken to pay for a place for my kids to live on the northside of town, huh?”

She ignores him, faces Jughead fully. “What’s that line about sins of the father? Should we compare notes?”

Jughead says nothing, just scratches the bridge of his nose to hide an ill-advised smile.

“Why don’t you run on home to _papi_ ,” FP sneers.

“That’s offensive and now it’s a hate crime if you fire me.”

His jaw ticks but he eyes her cautiously, like he’s not quite sure if that’s true but he doesn’t know enough about the issue to dispute it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Are those real?”

FP is the only off-duty serpent allowed behind the bar. She had been drying some of the glassware, and she slams a tumbler onto the bar top to turn her body and glare at him properly, hand cocked on her hip.

She doesn’t remember when, exactly, he made the change from trying to fire her, to trying to get her to quit, to riling her up for his amusement. She at least prefers the lewd interactions they’ve had for the past few weeks, so she won’t question it.

He snatches up the glass she’d abandoned and smirks at her, pleased with himself. He points—above her tits, but only just—and she realizes he meant the pearls around her neck.

He grabs a bottle of whatever cheap alcohol is closest and pours three times the amount she would serve to someone. Rather than baiting him further, she decides to be succinct. “Yes.”

He nods to himself, swallowing the drink in one pull.

“I’d still give you a better one,” he winks, and slides the glass back to her.

It takes her a minute to decipher his dirty joke. When she watches his retreating figure, she pretends the heat in her cheeks is that of animosity rather than a good old fashioned blush.

 

 

 

 

She’s never been too good at pretending.

 

 

 

 

 

At the end of the night, FP fucks her over the pool table.

If her life had been the 90s teen romcom of her dreams, this would be the record scratch, freeze frame moment for her to backtrack but she can’t quite catalogue all of the many bad decisions that lead up to this.

She had taken some unprofessional shots on the job and decided she may as well have some fun and fight fire with fire. So maybe she started bending over tables as she wiped them down, and maybe she brushed up against him too closely when there was no real need.

He had grabbed her by the hair and suddenly his tongue was in her mouth and his hand was in her panties. The next thing she knew, her skirt was rucked up and she was bent over.

She briefly wonders how many drinks had been spilled on the pool table in that day, but then FP has one hand on her hip when he slides into her, the other on her back to pin her down. The felt is already spotted with multiple stains of dubious origin, so what’s one more?

He must sense she was distracted, because he grabs her elbows and wrenches her arms behind her back.

“You still think you’re better than us?”

He hauls her up by her forearms and Veronica groans when the angle sends him deeper. He chuckles into her ear, a strangled sound after his panting.

“Does the almighty Hiram Lodge know his precious little princess is actually just a little slut?”

Veronica squeezes her eyes shut and prays that his words won’t get to her, but they do—the derogatory name sends a strange chill running through her, and she clenches around him.

She thinks she should do something petty like stomp on his foot and walk out, but she whimpers instead. So she tries some half-hearted course correction.

“Fuck you,” she breathes.

“You already got that covered, sweetheart.”

 

 

 

A few awkward days (for her) pass, and they don’t talk about it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She turns a blind eye when the shadier deals go down in the bar.

FP tries to make sure the Serpents stay on the up and up and keep _all_ deals in the bar to a minimum, she knows. He won’t have the possibility that Jughead could be an accessory by even the longest of stretches, and Jughead himself doesn’t want in on anything that could land him with more than a misdemeanor, anyway.

As long as Jug doesn’t fuck up his entire life by running guns or murdering somebody, she doesn’t care to know what the rest of them get up to.

Archie comes by every once in a while to hang out. She thinks it’s so he can check up on her even though he never outright says so. They chat mindlessly, serious discussions still reserved for a booth at Pop’s.

(She doesn’t tell him about FP, obviously. She can’t think of a scenario where “I had sex with your friend’s dad” is a good topic to converse with anyone, let alone your high school sweetheart.)

FP looks surprised but happy each time he’s there. Pulls him into one of those weird man hugs, claps him on the back with a, “Hey, Red.”

She’d never ask, but it’s still puzzling that FP treats him like a second son. _Archie_ was the one who helped her break into FP’s trailer _, Archie_ was the one who abandoned Jughead when he needed him most, _Archie_ was the one who started a turf war with the Serpents. Archie Andrews himself, not his parents.

Five years isn’t a long time when thinking about your kid’s lifelong friend, she knows, but that doesn’t ease the sting of wondering why Archie gets a pass when she still doesn’t.

Then her mom walks into the Wyrm in all of her Hermione Lodge glory, looking far more out of place than Archie ever did.

Her mom makes a beeline for her, and Veronica is already over this day before she’s even finished walking.

“Hi, Mrs. Lodge.”

“Archie,” her mom smiles. “Good to see you.”

FP shuffles his feet awkwardly, like he doesn’t quite know how to address the situation. He settles on, “Hi, Nina,” and Veronica throws up her hands in defeat.

_Great, even her mom gets better reception around here than she does._

She nods and gives him a smaller smile than she had Archie, though no less genuine.

“How did you finally find out where I’m working?” Veronica asks without preamble. She’s not embarrassed or ashamed to be caught, just truly curious.

“We can discuss that at home – let’s go.” Her mom says the words softly, not demanding like she had expected.

Still, Veronica laughs. “I’m not a rebelling teen, Mom. I have a job.”

It’s not a _total_ lie. She probably would have taken most any job, but the thought of sticking it to her parents by working with the Serpents had certainly helped her make the decision.

“You _know_ it’s not that simple, mija. It’s not safe.”

“I’m working at a bar, not going on a bender in Ibiza. I haven’t seen anything in here that wasn’t aboveboard.” That one is most definitely a lie. “What’s wrong with serving some hardworking, salt of the earth bikers?” She gestures to FP. “After all, you guys are old friends. I’m here making some new ones.”

Her mom eyes FP for a moment, but recovers quickly. “’ _Old_ friends’ being key. You could get into trouble here.”

FP scoffs and nods knowingly at her dismissal. A few Serpents have gathered nearby, eavesdropping on the scene, and he shoos them away.

“If you think it’s that unsafe, you should have your driver take you home.” Her mom doesn’t budge. “The sign broke but we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.”

 

 

 

 

Her head and feet are aching by the time she trades off with Toni, giving her the rundown of drunks to watch out for that night.

FP pulls his truck up to the main entrance just as she’s leaving, leans across the bench seat and opens the passenger door.

“Come on.”

“Why?”

“So I can reward you for being a good girl.”

He holds the door open expectantly, and she only hesitates for a second before she climbs in.

 

 

 

He drives them the short distance to the trailer and eats her out on his kitchen table.

(The irony of the situation isn’t lost on her but she thinks it might be on him.)

He doesn’t even let her get completely undressed, just drops her shorts to the floor. Spreads her legs apart and holds her underwear to the side while he licks into her, makes her come like that.

She doesn’t know if the “reward” was getting her off once, but she’s not finished.

Her legs still shake and she stumbles on the uneven flooring between the hallway and the bedroom. FP’s hands reach out to catch her before she can do something humiliating like fall down half naked.

“Careful, kid.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Yeah, thanks for really saving me there, daddy.”

He tenses against her back, his fingertips digging into her waist.

“Really?” She laughs in surprise and turns in his grip. “Getting your rocks off on a girl calling you daddy—isn’t that a tad cliché?”

“About as much as a spoiled little rich girl rebelling by fucking someone her parents hate.”

He dips his hand back into her panties, so she figures mocking him can wait.

They kick off the remainder of their clothes in a frenzy. He settles back onto the bed and she climbs over to straddle his legs as he grabs a condom from the nightstand. Veronica holds him tight in her hand, tighter than she knows is necessary, and he hisses while she rolls the condom over him. He calls her a bitch and she gives an angelic smile.

FP angles his cock up toward her and she sinks down easily, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as she does. She rocks there in his lap for a moment before his hands fall to her hips and guide her to riding him in earnest.

He has her on edge quickly, fingers relentless on her clit, marking her up with his mouth on her breasts. He bites the inner curve of one while pinching the nipple of the other, and she grinds down against him unwittingly.

He mutters, “Come on, baby girl,” and she comes with a cry.

FP looks far too smug and she feels an itch to knock him down a peg. She leans forward, nips at his jaw, and whispers, “Thank you, Daddy.”

His fingers dig so hard into her ass that she thinks—she hopes—he might leave bruises.

 

 

 

In the morning, Veronica wakes up to FP leaning over her body, his fingers curled inside her and thumb strumming over her clit.

She’s _soaked_. She wonders how long he’s been up to this.

“There she is. Open up those legs for Daddy.”

 

 

 

Two hours later she gets a cab home.

 

* * *

 

 

 **_11:43 AM_ ** _  
When are you getting back into town? I have a hot scoop of gossip for you._

Betty sends her a screenshot of her flight itinerary before she replies.

 

 **_11:48 AM  
_ ** _Ethical journalism be damned, I’m intrigued._

 

 

* * *

 

It’s even less than an unspoken agreement, but it’s decidedly a _thing_.

Because there’s no real explanation for the sequence of events that led to her, half naked, sucking FP off on one of the ugly yellow sofas in the front room of his trailer.

Her shirt and bra had been stripped off, FP giving her a quick grope before he guided her to the floor between his legs, the rug over the vinyl floor scratching her knees.

Veronica undoes the closure of his pants, and he lifts his hips so she can drag the denim down his legs. She watches him as she goes, and his hand comes to cup the back of her neck.

When she takes his cock into her hand, teases him with a dry kiss just under the head, his fingers twitch in her hair. She tortures him with a deliberately slow lick from root to tip before she takes him in her mouth.

She curls her tongue around the sensitive tip and FP curses, digging his head back into the couch cushion. Veronica smirks around him as his eyes glaze over. She takes her time, bobs her head leisurely, hollowing her cheeks and sucking hard when she pulls back.

FP, tired of her slow movements, thrusts up into her mouth. He pushes lightly on the back of her neck and she takes him as deep as her body will allow, moaning softly.

She lets him hold her there for a moment, savoring the sensation before she pulls off to draw in a gasp. She pumps the shaft with her hand while she catches her breath, dipping back down to suck at the base of his length.

Pupils blown wide, FP’s hand jerks on the back of her head, itching to push her again. She nods, and steadies herself with her hands on his thighs while he fucks into her mouth. When he reaches her throat, she swallows around him, and he _whimpers_.

FP gathers her hair in his fist as he pulls out of her mouth and quickly strokes himself.

Veronica refrains from rolling her eyes, just opens her jaw and holds out her tongue expectantly. He surprises her though, when he rasps out, “Close your mouth,” before pulling her hair sharply.

The move brings her head back and arches her spine, practically presenting her breasts to him. She feels heat rush to her cheeks when she realizes his intention.

Following a series of harsh grunts, ropes of his come land across her chest.

“You’re vile,” she says drily.

“That any way to talk to your daddy?”

Now she _does_ roll her eyes.

“Making fun of _your_ kink really backfired for me, didn’t it?”

He swipes his thumb through the mess on her chest before he presses it onto her tongue. “I did promise I’d give you a better one.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

Betty walks into the Wyrm with a beaming smile and skips over to Veronica, running behind the bar to squeeze her tightly.

“Sorry, I know I shouldn’t be back here but I got excited.”

“Oh, please.” Veronica dismisses her with a flap of her hand. “You’re the Serpent Princess. They love you more than they love me, and they _love_ me.”

“Which is… strange,” Betty says carefully.

“Though not untrue.”

She won over the Serpents close to their age before they had even graduated. The others still hadn’t been expecting her to treat them like regular people or something. They were wary, but eventually came around between being friends with Betty and Jughead, and the showdown with her mom.

It doesn’t hurt that she feeds the bar snakes without so much as a shiver.

“Let me take my fifteen and you can tell me about your travels.”

 

 

 

Sitting in the passenger’s seat of her mom’s car, Veronica swears her best friend to secrecy.

“This isn’t exactly the Ark of the Covenant’s last known whereabouts, but it needs to stay under wraps. Don’t tell anyone.” Betty nods. “Not even Jughead.” A beat, then she nods again. “I’ve been having sex with FP.”

Betty screws up her face. “Ew.”

Veronica laughs, “Okay, that’s—you’re boning the baby version!”

“Jug’s our age,” she defends.

“And eventually he’ll evolve into looking like his dad. One day. If you’re lucky.”

Betty rolls her eyes with a smile, before something occurs to her with a start. “Where?”

“Where what?”

“Where have you been having sex with FP?”

“The trailer, mostly. Why?” Betty bites her lip nervously, and Veronica narrows her eyes. “It’s five hundred square feet with, like, three pieces of furniture – how many places could you have done it?”

Betty tugs at her ear and avoids Veronica’s gaze. “Maybe just keep things contained to his room.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Veronica spends more nights at the Cooper’s than at home now that Betty is back. Things with her parents are still weird and tense, like she’s dishonoring the family.

Which, she supposes, she probably is.

Chic had looked at her strangely when a package for her had arrived, but Veronica finds Chic looks at everyone strangely no matter what, so she doesn’t bother worrying about it.

She’d come to the bar early on the off chance she could catch FP before her shift.  There are a few people scattered throughout the place but she finds him alone, nursing a beer in one of the booths near the back.

Veronica trots over and drops the Yves Delorme package in front of him unceremoniously.

“Christmas in July. Your sheets are going to give me hives.”

She taking zero chances of having sex on the same sheets that her friends did. Plus, his sheets were old and _too_ soft – with age and wear, not fabric quality. It was skeeving her out.

Though she had wanted to go for the light blue, tropical print, she doubted FP would recognize or appreciate the detail, so she settled on a silver and charcoal grey set.

She’s a giver, really.

A wolfish smirk manifests on his face. “Plan on spending a lot of time in my bed, Princess?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes the stars align and Jughead is able to snag the same weekend shift as her so she doesn’t go absolutely insane. They tend bar; she delivers greasy fried food to the souls brave enough to eat it, and Jughead buses the tables once they’re empty.

“Behind,” she warns, balancing plates over her head as she scoots past FP pouring his own drink.

She can feel his eyes on her all the way to the table. She smiles through her usual pleasantries as she dishes out their appetizers, then makes her way back to her post. FP doesn’t look away from her, brazenly checking her out all the while.

Other than the small smile she can’t keep hidden, she doesn’t acknowledge him and focuses on actually doing her job.

His gruff voice utters, “Behind,” right before he presses his body to hers, drags one hand over her ass. She contemplates backing up further to grind against his crotch, but he slips past her and disappears into the crowd.

Jughead peers at her curiously when he returns with his grey tub full of dishes. He stands on the opposite side of the bar, resting his hands on the wood after handing the tote off to her.

“Please don’t fuck my dad,” he begs.

She can respect him for being so direct—not so much for his timing, and she lets him know as much. “I hope you didn’t pay a fortune for your ticket because you have most certainly missed the boat.”

Before he stalks away, Jughead mutters, “God fucking damn it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The summer weather is making it too hot to wear tights with her skirt, and she only makes it one hour into her shift as a result. FP takes one look at her before he grabs her wrist painfully and drags her up the stairs. There’s an immediate throb of want between her legs.

He bangs the side of his fist on the office door but opens it before anyone could possibly respond.

“Get out,” he commands. “New girl needs a fucking performance review since she can’t stop messing up orders.”

(She’s never gotten an order wrong, thank you very much. The only time that even comes close was when one particularly rowdy customer didn’t know the difference between a sidecar and a screwdriver, and Jughead had to throw her out after she spit the drink in Veronica’s face.)

The Serpents shuffle past her, some whispering, “ _Ooooh_ ,” like she’s been sent to the principal’s office.

It’s the first time she’s been allowed up here, in the office. The room smells like skunked beer and skunkier weed when she steps in behind FP and pulls the door shut with her.

One of his hands turns the deadbolt and the other reaches under her skirt and yanks her underwear off.

FP grips her legs above the knee and hefts her up against him, pressing her back to the wall while she hooks her feet around his legs.

He presses one finger inside her and she grips the leather cut on his back. She shifts and moans quietly, and he slips in another.

“Shit,” she gasps.

He scissors his fingers inside her and she bears down on them.

“It’s fine, it’s fine—fuck me.”

FP barks a laugh – a quick, genuine sound that warms her belly in a way that she is never going to analyze.

For all her demanding, a pathetic whimper still escapes when he removes his hand. It’s her turn to laugh in his face when he extracts a condom from his jacket pocket. He shushes her with a kiss as he eases his cock into her but that’s not what she needs right now.

She uses the wall for leverage to cant her hips, and ends up knocking her head against the wood. “Please, Daddy.”

It started as a joke but it’s become her secret weapon when they hook up.

FP lets go of one of her legs and his palm lands heavy on her sternum, fingers splayed over her neck.

“Watch yourself, baby girl. Wouldn’t want someone to hear, would you?”

All she wants is for his hand to tighten around her throat. The image alone sends a hot rush through her, and she involuntarily clenches around his dick.

“Fuck,” he tenses, his hand squeezing for a fantastic, too-brief moment.

Her hand shoots up to grip his wrist, holding him to her neck. “Do it again,” she breathes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Betty’s back in town for three weeks before she and Jughead are on their first off-again period of the summer.

It’s exhausting to keep up with, but she knows that they’ll figure things out before the week is out and, annoyingly, there’s nothing she can do to help speed things along.

So as much as she wants to tell her to get over it and move on to the make up sex portion of the whole ordeal, Veronica decidedly does _not_ tell her bestie to pull herself and Jug out of whatever dire strait they’ve landed in this time.

Betty had marched in, dressed to the nines in her best clubbing attire and make up, perplexing Veronica.

“I want to look better than I feel,” she’d said to Veronica in the confines of the bathroom. “I want to drink and have fun with my best friend, and pretend my heart isn’t shattered for a little while.” Then Betty’s eyes had teared up, so she pulled the taller girl down for a tight hug and agreed.

Veronica knows that a dive bar where everyone knows her is not the prime environment for the girl to let loose. Betty was more likely to get tired without loud, atmospheric music and dancing, but she hoped she could at least help her friend forget her troubles for the night.

The Wyrm should be Jughead’s turf, she supposes, but Veronica couldn’t leave and her best friend needed her. So, she mixed mojitos under the condition that Betty would accept all of the water backs Veronica handed to her.

At some point, Jughead had walked through the door and made his way over to greet her because he didn’t realize the done up, blonde customer was Betty, she could only assume. He’d stopped in his tracks when he put two and two together. Veronica had cocked her head pointedly, but Jughead rushed upstairs before Betty knew he was there.

Betty’s eyes had watered and spilled over several times throughout the night, but that’s standard fare for her even on a good day, so Veronica wasn’t one hundred percent sure when she’d hit her limit.

So now Betty’s slouched over the bar half asleep, leaning on her hand and smearing her smoky eye to her temple. She laments her lost love and Veronica only makes one snarky comment about how he’s twenty feet away, brooding in his room at the clubhouse, overhead.

She finally determines that she needs to cut Betty off when she can’t tell the difference between her straw and a swizzle stick. She places two tall glasses of water in front of her, and swears that she’ll call Alice if Betty doesn’t finish them within twenty minutes.

Betty sighs in defeat and does as she’s told.

She can hear FP stomp down the stairs, and after a moment he sidles up behind Betty and looks to Veronica, concerned. “She okay?”

Veronica only grimaces, so FP sighs and slings his arm over Betty’s shoulders. “C’mon, Betty,” he squeezes her arm. “Time to go home.”

Betty nods and grumbles sleepily to herself when she slides off the barstool. She wobbles in her high heels, and her hand shoots to the side to catch FP’s forearm before she falls. She leans precariously to pull her shoes off, and Veronica can’t help but snicker as Betty uses FP as a wall to keep her balance.

“Ow,” he mutters with a roll of his eyes, but holds her steady.

Veronica pulls out her phone to get the poor girl an Uber, but Betty holds her shoes in one hand and mumbles, “Night, Ronnie,” before she pads up the stairs and slips into Jughead’s room.

Once she’s sure her friend is able to get inside without falling and cracking her head open, she glances over at FP and sees him shaking his head with the same exasperated fondness she feels.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Veronica gripes when she sees that he still hadn’t put the new sheets on his bed, but he gets her off three times before he finally lays her out on her back and fucks her, so she thinks she’ll forgive him.

She’d scratched him at some point, apparently. An angry, red welt claws its way down one side of his chest. Veronica admires her handiwork with a smug grin, before she pillows her head on his shoulder and starts cataloguing his tattoos as well.

There are a few small stick and pokes scattered over his skin, but it’s the ostentatious double-headed snake that covers one half of his chest that keeps her attention.

It’s larger than most of the ones she sees day to day on the younger Serpents. Usually small, hidden easily enough from parents and teachers.

(Except for drama queen Sweet Pea, of course.)

She tries to imagine a young FP Jones—maybe shirtless at Sweetwater River or Crystal Lake to really strike her fancy—carefree, probably as stupidly proud of his new family as Jug had been.

Resting her arm across his abdomen, she traces the faded details.

“Did it hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

She shoots him an unimpressed look and he chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“I don’t remember. A concussion mixed with some booze don’t make for a memorable time.”

“It sounds like there’s a story there.”

FP looks down at her, confused. “Jughead didn’t tell you about initiation?”

Veronica frowns and shakes her head in the negative.

“Oh yeah, that was a fun time.” The bitter sarcasm lets her know it was anything but, so she drops it for now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A new face sits at the bar and she’s _ecstatic_.

The usual suspects are great and all, but she still craves variety, and she smiles wide when a gentleman takes the free seat directly in front of her. A shiny new toy, someone other than the bikers that grace the barstools.

She’s never seen him in town, and he looks a little uneasy once he takes note of everyone in leather, so she deduces he’s just passing through Riverdale.

Veronica chats him up, leans forward more than she needs to, laughs louder than his jokes call for, and finesses a significant tip.

He slips her a card after writing his personal number, and she fakes being bashful as she gives her thanks. He winks in her direction before he heads out.

She tosses his card in the trash.

A few moments later, she’s crouched beneath the bar looking for a box of disposable coasters and someone knocks into her with a light hip check. Her automatic scowl lessens when she identifies the culprit.

“Buenas noches - I’m your relief.”

“Toni, hey!” Veronica’s surprised, but greets her warmly nonetheless. “You’re not supposed to start for another 45 minutes.”

“You’ve been beckoned.” Toni gestures with a dishtowel, a knowing glint in her eye.

Confused, Veronica looks back over her shoulder as she pops back to her feet.

But of course, it’s FP. Leaning against the doorframe with a hand poised on his hip, he actually does beckon her forward with his fingers. Damn him if it doesn’t spark a dull throb between her legs.

“And he couldn’t just con you into doing whatever it is?”

“I’m pretty sure the tasks he has in mind aren’t in my job description.”

Veronica whirls to face Toni again. She’s ready to shoot off a half-formed explanation but Toni just looks bored, like she’s expecting and would _not_ appreciate the lie.

“Let me see if I can cover all of the important points before you get into a tizzy.” She holds up a hand and ticks a list off her fingers.  “The guys don’t know anything, they’re idiots. I won’t tell anyone because we’re not in middle school and your business isn’t mine to share. I’m not judging you because I encourage everyone to live their best ho life.”

“How is Cheryl, by the way?”

Toni gives her a wry grin. “Nice try, but this one isn’t about me. Go sow your wild oats.”

Veronica shakes her head, squeezes Toni’s arm, and does as she’s told.

When she makes it over to him, FP drags her outside even though she uselessly argues that she already took her break. His truck is parked at the far end of the lot and she talks his ear off for the duration of the short walk, until they reach the back door and he commands, “Get in.”

“Isn’t that my line?”

He chuckles and wrenches the door open. She clambers into the back seat without bothering to hold her skirt in place - she knows it’s futile.

She leans over the front to reach for the glove box, roots around in the receipts and paperwork and _actual CDs_ until her fingers close around his emergency condom stash – it is not her first time at this rodeo.

When she sits back, FP already has his belt buckle undone and is lowering the zipper on his jeans. He grabs her knees, her back sliding on the seat as he pulls her closer toward him, and one of her legs hangs off the seat when he settles himself over her body.

He kneads one of her breasts for a moment and kisses her briefly, biting her bottom lip when he pulls back. Watching her, he skims his hand down to the junction of her thighs, and her own eyes drift closed when he starts rubbing her through her underwear.

“Half expected you to jump over the bar and mount him.”

“You’re not my boyfriend,” Veronica grits out. “You don’t get to be jealous.”

FP at least runs his fingers over her slit to test how wet she is before he moves the crotch of her panties to the side and shoves inside her.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she grunts out, clutching his back and wiggling to adjust to the stretch. Moaning when the movement brings him deeper inside.

FP cups her jaw to tilt her head, breath hot against her ear. “Shhh.”

“Fuck you,” she moans again, crying out when he fucks into her harder.

He holds his thumb over her lips to keep her mouth shut. “Always so noisy at the worst times.”

Veronica whines and bites the digit, trapping it in her teeth.

It’s almost embarrassing how close she is already, and when FP starts sucking and nipping at her neck she squeezes around him.

“Christ,” he mutters. He pulls his hand away from her face to take her mouth in a bruising kiss. She returns it desperately, little breaths escaping every time he sinks in to the hilt.

She doesn’t even reach down to touch herself before there is a quick, telltale tightening in her spine, and she’s coming in waves on his cock with a gasp.

It’s seemingly enough to trigger his own orgasm, as he leaves her mouth to bury his face in her neck. Bucking into her, he muffles his groan in her hair.

He rises up too soon, fumbling to push himself up on his arms. He ultimately surrenders to the post-coital laziness instead, his head resting on her chest.

“Those two whole seconds were great,” Veronica notes sarcastically, though it’s true. FP just hums into her boob, and she cards her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. “People are starting to figure it out.”

“Good. They know I don’t like to share.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Uh, so why exactly am I here?”

 _Petty revenge_ , she thinks, and shoves FP into her father’s large office chair.

It’s bullshit that her parents want her to be responsible for herself, but disapprove of her choices that “ _betray the family_ ”. Sure, she’s messing with the family dynamic, but it’s not like she’s Fredo Corleone. Thankfully, they’ve started to come around since their closeted skeletons haven’t been popping up around town. They just want their _princesa_ to come home more often.

So she does. And this time she brings a friend.

(She’s still a _little_ pissed that they didn’t trust her.)

“Because you hate him almost as much as I do.”

She slips her hand between them, under the waistband of his pants and into his boxers. He’s half hard already, and shrugs in explanation when she snickers. She strokes him lightly, slowly, until he eases her away to force his pants down.

Veronica slides her thong down her legs and slips it into the pocket of his jacket.

Taking hold of FP’s shoulders and bracing her knees on the chair, she lets gravity do the work as he fills her. For a moment she rests there in his lap and his hands explore the curves of her thighs

Then she rises up before quickly slamming back down, and his hands shoot up to grab her ass, holding her in place.

“You’re not breaking my dick just because you’re in a bad mood.”

FP gets a good handle on her legs and lifts her off him, ignoring her complaint when he has to pull out. He places her on the desk and slides back inside, and Veronica holds onto him with one arm, the other behind her to brace herself.

Even though no one is home, she tries to stay quiet, keeping her mewling to a minimum as they rut against one another.

His hand slips under her dress and into her bra to tug at a nipple, and her orgasm rushes up to her quickly. FP must sense it, because soon his fingers flare out over her stomach as his thumb rubs firm circles over her clit. “Come on, come for Daddy.”

Veronica can’t help but obey. She shudders and tosses her head back, warmth spreading through her whole body, going rigid and shaking.

When she comes back to her senses, breathing heavily and sweating, she notices she had clamped around him so tightly that FP is barely moving inside her.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come.”

He attempts to untangle their limbs and withdraw but Veronica shakes her head quickly and grabs at his arms again. Her heels hook around his thighs, holding him close.

“Inside.”

“Je _sus_.” That’s all it takes to push him over the edge, and as he spills into her he makes a loud noise that sounds pained.

“I’m a dead man, aren’t I?” He pants into her neck.

“Hm, probably.”

FP chuckles and kisses her.

Soft. She would almost describe it as sweet.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you sure you guys don’t need a ride to the bus station? We can take you.”

Sitting in her favorite place with her favorite companions, Veronica feels nothing but morose.

Archie has a couple days left with his dad, but Betty and Jughead are heading back to the city already. Veronica always made the trip back with them at the end of every break, except for this one.

As desperately as she wants to head back to the city with them, she knows she’s better working her ass off in Riverdale and saving what she can instead of scouring for ‘Help Wanted’ ads for months.

(Maybe now that the annual autumn exodus is starting she’ll be able to find a real job so that she doesn’t end up with back and shoulder injuries before she’s 25.)

Veronica loves her parents, she does, but she doesn’t want to be on their dime and under their rule for the rest of her life.

And independence comes with the cost of a prolonged absence from her best friends. A part of her feels guilty – she hadn’t soaked up every possible second with them, and now their summer has boiled down to four empty glasses and dregs of melted ice cream.

Betty nods. “FP is taking us.”

“We’ll have to head over there soon.” Jughead says it almost sadly, though Veronica has it on good authority that he’s been itching to get out of here.

Next to her, Archie pouts even though he’ll be joining them over the weekend.

“Juggie, are you forgetting something?”

Betty forms the words like a suggestion, but Jughead clearly has no idea what she’s talking about.

“No? We packed everything last night – it’s in the truck.”

“ _Jug_.” Betty stares at him and he gawks right back. She tilts her head in Veronica’s direction, which seems to jog his memory.

“Oh! Shit, sorry.” He scrambles to search all of his pockets, frowning and patting himself down when he comes up empty.

Betty shakes her head in irritation and hands over his backpack. Grateful, Jughead smiles at her while he digs through the main compartment.

He finds his goblin treasure eventually, and slides a long, flat box across the table to Veronica.

“My favorite kind,” she hedges.

She opens the box carefully, astonished to find that it cradles a deceptively simple bracelet; one end of the clasp a snake, midbite, and the other its tail—coming together to form the daintiest of ouroboros.

“I’m a Serpent now?” She teases. Immediately, she takes the chain out from its cushion and attempts to put it on herself.

“Serpent-lite.” Jughead clarifies with a grin.

“Thanks, Jug,” she says with an unexpected amount of sincerity. “I don’t know who you had to shiv to convince everyone to let me have this, but…”

“They were all fine with it. Most of the usual suspects chipped in. It was actually my dad’s idea.”

Veronica quits struggling to clasp the jewelry herself and holds out her wrist to Archie.

“He thought we should get you a ring that wrapped around your finger like a snake, but this one vetoed it.” He punctuates the statement with a gesture to Betty.

“I thought it was cool,” Archie frowns while he fixes the jewelry.

“It was very Taylor Swift, and not in any way that you would appreciate,” Betty says gravely.

Veronica reaches out across the table to grasp the other girl’s hand. “You know what, Betty? You’re my absolute favorite.”

Betty beams in response.

The gift-giving seems to signal that their time has officially come to a close. She and Archie aren’t sure if they’ll have time to meet up again before he leaves, so all four of them trade goodbyes and farewells.

Jughead pulls her into a one-armed hug. “Don’t thank him until I’m far, far away.”

Veronica laughs quietly. “You got it.”

 

 

 

Fingering the bracelet on her wrist as she walks through the Southside, Veronica revels in the fact they won’t have to sneak around anymore.

(Not that they _really_ did to begin with, but Jughead occasionally watched them with a shudder and looked vaguely sick. She tried to keep interactions in his line of view to a minimum.)

She checks the time when she makes it to Sunnyside. Betty and Jughead’s bus should have departed by now but FP will still be a while yet, so she lets herself in to the trailer with the hide-a-key Archie had shown her all those years ago.

Veronica slips her shoes off at the door and sheds pieces of clothing as she walks down the hallway. _It’s only fair to thank someone for giving you jewelry_ , she thinks.

She stops short in the doorway when she sees his bed – now sporting different pillowcases, and a hint of crisp grey sheets beneath the new comforter.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticisms are appreciated!


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